- Contributed by
- John Arnott
- People in story:
- John Arnott and parents and Harry
- Location of story:
- York ,Rufforth and Acomb
- Background to story:
- Civilian
- Article ID:
- A6761135
- Contributed on:
- 07 November 2005
John Arnott — 12 October 2005
Harry …….Wireless Op’
All RAF flying crew needed some form of tension release from their nerve racking operational duties. One way in which men found they could ‘unwind and relax’ was to accept the hospitality given to them by local people who lived near to the aerodromes. Nearby homes opened their doors to aircrew and treated them as full members of the family. As a young teenager at the time, many evenings were devoted to this emotional ‘unwinding’. The effect of all this on family life was profound, any loss of life through enemy action was treated as a real family loss, and families were truly involved. The appreciation received from the aircrew for giving them ‘warm family union’ was humbling…… especially when contrasted against the background of their own human sacrifice. This is about Harry, a wireless operator based at Rufforth, who was only nineteen.
Harry….Wireless Op’
Harry was a wireless op’,
in a Halifax,
1942 I believe.
I remember Harry
With so much ease,
Because he talked to me.
Of life, of fun, of being afraid.
Harry was nineteen,
Became a friend indeed.
From Rufforth he cycled to our Acomb home,
For family love,
He needed that.
Jokes and laughter filled the house,
But Harry also
Shed tears a lot.
With Mam in charge, gripping frying pan,
The kitchen was ‘her’ place.
She was Queen!
Smells of bacon. eggs…chips…fried bread
Food ‘hushed’ in from York’s green Vale,
Or was it black, maybe?! (1)
With feet on sofa, Harry dozed, sometimes deep,
But brought to life, with Mam’s lilting shrieks,
“Such a canny lad” ….crooned those bacon smells! (2)
Why did Harry love this cycle ride?
To where he felt at home,
This night could be his last of course.
Diversions helped when Harry felt down,
But dartboard…’shuv-aipny’…raised him up.
Excitement throbbed when games got hot!
Sometimes ‘sing-songs’ helped the night,
Geordie songs, often shouted out,
Blaydon races, deaf’nd lot!
Dad on fiddle, violin I mean,
Tapping feet, dancing eyes,
Always happy when in tune.
But Harry thought of danger …soon,
Couldn’t face the cycling back,
But always did as he had to do.
He used to say “listen in shortwave,
To our Halifax’s returning,
You may pick us up before our landing.”
On special nights, when I dared creep down,
To our backroom, where the wireless stood,
I tuned in to those bombers just returning.
The wireless hissed and voices crackled,
“On two props only have to land”,
Was that Harry’s voice? Probably not.
Those noisy aircraft landing near,
Shook the roof apart, it seemed,
But we only thought of men inside.
Harry was over Cologne that night,
So we knew he’d have the next night off,
To relax and eat and sleep and chat.
He usually arrived at seven about,
On his bike of course, what else?
The darts were ready and the chip pan on.
Three day went by, before we heard,
But we knew Harry’s copped it.
Because we knew, you just know. Don’t you?
1. It certainly was an offence to smuggle in meat and other rationed food from the farms, but sometimes the risk was worth taking, hence the expression ‘black market’.
2. The sense of smell and the sense of hearing seemed to be fused together!
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